I don’t want to start this post with the normal vitriol that accompanies the thought process of a frustrated, lazy Nigerian youth. No; not today. I want you to take a deep breath, a verrrrrrry deep one. This is that part where we have a little bit of introspection. That part where we pause for a minute and ask ourselves; are my parents really my parents?. I know this might sound crazy but then; normal is overrated. Have you ever wondered if you were a mistake? I don’t mean that kind of mistake that happens when your durex tears. . . nah, far from that. I mean that kind of mistake that is so Nigerian. Still confused? Chill, lemme break it down.
Just the other day, someone I know celebrated his birthday, so it got me thinking. What if, on the day of your birth, as the nurse took you to the general section (you know, that place they keep all babies), the nurse made a mistake. She forgot to tag you properly, so when it was time to bring you back to your parents, she was confused. Then she just picked a random baby from the avalanche of babies in the room and presented it to your parents. That random baby she picked up and presented to your parents wasn’t the actual one they gave birth to; but then, they don’t know. So they take the baby home and train the child as theirs, not knowing it was a mix up all from the beginning.
Long story short, what if they mistakenly swapped you in the hospital on the day of your birth? Now, the poor man you call father isn’t really your dad. The beating you’ve been receiving all your life wasn’t really meant for you. The hardship you’ve gone through in your life was meant for another person. The terrible food you’ve been subjected to all your miserable life wasn’t really cooked by your ‘mom’. The water you wake up every 5am to go and fetch some kilometres away from your house is not even your destiny. Just negodi!
So now, your real parents are off in ibiza, enjoying a family vacation with the other boy they swapped you with, touring the world in their yacht and you’re stuck in a dimly lit one bedroom face-me-i-face-you with your parents and your ‘three’ other siblings.
Shit happens eh? . . . but then; what do I know?